Matt Oldham

The sound of my alarm awakens me to a new day. I have never been able to immediately jump out of bed, so as I struggle with the constant beeping and ringing of my multiple alarms, I look ahead to what this day may have in store. After five, or ten, or even fifteen minutes, I finally pull myself out of my soft, quiet escape from the world. Even with the fifteen minute snooze, it is still early, dark outside; a chill from the morning breeze can be felt through my cracked window. I find my way to my bathroom and shield my eyes as the bright, almost extraterrestrial light flickers above. I look up into my own face, hair a mess, face unshaven, dark stubble forming its way at the bottom of my chin. I splash water on my face to wake myself up, like my alarms; it usually takes more than one before I am completely awake. I know what the day will bring, too much to get done, with not nearly enough time to accomplish all I set out to – a struggle; a conflict. I guess my life has always been somewhat of a conflict: sports, friends, school; all of these always conflicted with each other and I was always left with a choice of what to do next, what is right and what is wrong? Do I write my paper tonight, or tomorrow? Do I help my father with yard work or do I help my mother with household duties?

One thing I have concluded in my twenty years on this planet is that life—not all the time, not every second, but in general—is a struggle. How do we deal with difference and conflict? We rise to the occasion. We create opportunity in our lives to force out our misguided senses of right and wrong. We create opportunity in our lives to combat struggle. We create opportunity in our lives to control any fear, chaos, and pain that may surround us.

My senior year of high school was not for me, as it is for some, a happy reflection of what took place youth. It was not the last party before the "grown up world" of college and beyond. For me my senior year was struggling with who I was as a person. My dad has given me a lot of great advice in my life, but perhaps the greatest lesson I learned from him was this, "Son, there are two types of people in this world. There are leaders and there are followers. The choices we make reflect what road we have chosen, but in the end, there is only one road worth following." As I watched people around me fall victim to "sins of the youth" –alcohol, drugs, sex—I remember what my dad had taught me. So while I struggled with what my fu